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Zimbabwe: ‘They put burning sticks in my mother’s mouth. They beat my father on the back and on the feet and with animal hide’
The Campbells and Freeths are no strangers to aggression from Robert Mugabe’s thugs. But this time was different. After being tied up and kidnapped, they narrowly escaped with their lives from a nine-hour ordeal of beatings, torture and mock executions.
Mike Campbell, 75, his wife, Angela, 66, and their son-in-law, Ben Freeth were taken to a pungwe, one of the thousands of indoctrination meetings where people must chant pro-Mugabe slogans and are beaten if they fail.
The three were dragged in front of the mob of 50 thugs and doused in cold water. “Then they beat them severely,” Mr Freeth’s wife, Laura, said yesterday. “They put burning sticks in my mother’s mouth. They beat my father on the back and on the feet, and with a shambok, an animal hide.”
Mr Freeth, who is in his 30s, was hit on the back of his head with a rifle butt and then with sticks, causing a wound that nearly cost him an eye.
After that, they were bundled, bleeding, into the car again and taken to a local site called Pixton Mine. “They got them out of the car and held a revolver to their heads,” Mrs Freeth said. She said the family, who have led a landmark case before the Southern African Development Community regional court that stands to reverse Mr Mugabe’s policy of farm seizures, were then told to sign a piece of paper declaring that they would not go to the court. They were told they had to sign it or would be shot.
The men also forced them to sign a statement promising that they would not go to the police. Last night The Times visited all three in hospital in Harare, where they were lying heavily sedated, recovering from their ordeal. Only Mr Campbell was conscious, nursing a broken collarbone and hand, his face a mass of blood and bruises.
His wife lay unconscious in a room across the corridor, awaiting surgery today for her two smashed arms. Mr Freeth had fallen asleep after hours of vomiting from concussion, his head split open at the back, his eye hugely swollen from where he was beaten with sticks.
The attack on the Campbell farm at Chegutu, west of Harare, began at 3pm on Sunday. almost the exact moment that Zimbabwe’s Election Commission announced Robert Mugabe’s landslide victory in Friday’s tainted election.
Deon Theron, the vice-president of the Commercial Farmers’ Union (CFU), said the court case threat meant the attack was no coincidence.
“For Mugabe, this is about opposition,” Mr Theron said. “Mr Mugabe’s election slogan, ‘100 per cent empowerment’, should have been a giveaway. This is part of the 100 per cent, to get rid of the opposition.”
The Campbells and their son-in-law were to be the example to warn all other farmers intent on fighting the Government over the land seizures. When Mr Freeth was dragged from his car, he too was bound and bundled along with his in-laws into Mr Campbell’s own car. Mrs Freeth’s brother tried to give chase as they drove off, “but they shot at him from the car and he could not follow any more”.
After their release, Mr Freeth managed to reach a house where he was able to call his wife. Despite their appalling injuries, it was a relief. “It was the awful waiting that was the worst,” she said. “We thank God their lives were preserved.”
Farmers’ advocates fear the worst is not over yet. The Campbells and the Freeths are only the latest in a line of attacks, even if theirs was the bloodiest, all of which have involved farmers linked to the court case. “They want to stop this, it’s very clear,” Trevor Gifford, the CFU president said.
Astonishingly, perhaps, Mr Campbell has vowed not to give up. Mrs Freeth pointed to the 150-plus workers who rely on them for employment. “We trust in God,” she said.
Mr Campbell, from his hospital bed, was blunter. He would carry on, he said, and he was not afraid that the war veterans would return. “I’ll shoot the b******s if they do,” he said.
Tale of two rugby players
(Editor, The Zimbabwean)
Tienie’ Martin’s Great Grandfather Marthinus Martin arrived in the Eastern Highlands of what was then Southern Rhodesia in October of 1894.
Having led 104 settlers on a harrowing journey north from South Africa the new arrivals set about hacking a livelihood out of a largely deserted wilderness and helped pioneer commercial farming in the new country.
His grandson Marthinus (ii) farmed on and became one of Rhodesia’s top tobacco producers.
‘Tienie’ (Marthinus iii) grew up on Tiny Farm in Inyazura. Youngest of three brothers with two sisters the Martins were a pivotal family in the community with Marthinus (ii) widely respected by all, a patriarchal figure filling the role of informal, ‘elder statesman’Excelling at sport ‘Tienie’ shunned academia, much to the annoyance of his father who gave him one shot at university and meant it. ‘Tienie’ was soon back on the ‘plaas’ after a brief, fun-filled, but academically unrewarding sojourn at ‘Tukkies’ where he represented Northern Transvaal and SA Universities at athletics.
But back in Rhodesia he was quickly noticed on the rugby field by the national selectors and earned his first national cap in 1966. By 1968 he was in line for Springbok honours when injury struck and he was ruled out of the South African tour of France. In 1969 the British Barbarians, asked to choose the best fly-half they encountered on their southern Africa tour were unequivocal in their rating of him above Springbok Piet Visagie. Later that year there was criticism in the SA press when Martin was overlooked in favour of Mike Lawless. He was however chosen for the SA Gazelles and Springbok trials and also represented the SA ’B’. By 1971 his competitive career, marred by injury, was over but ‘Tienie’ Martin had staked a claim for recognition as one of Rhodesia’s greatest fly-halves. In the popularity stakes, with his good looks, charm and sense of humour Rhodesian rugby lost one it’s most charismatic players.
Married to Charlotte in 1971 ‘Tienie’s father died in 1974 and he took over the farm acquiring a reputation, in his own right, similar to his fathers; liked and respected across the racial divide by all and a first-class farmer. “I don’t think ‘Tienie’ Martin has an enemy in the world,” says former fellow-farmer and friend, ‘Lochie’ Slabbert, “he is just one of the nicest people I have ever known”.But everything changed just after 1 o’clock on Monday 8th December of 2003 when ‘occupiers’ burst through the farm gates and told ‘Tienie’s daughter Shelly that they were taking ‘Tiny Farm’ and wanted to see her father .
Hearing of the crisis nearby a neighbour phoned ‘Tienie’ who was in Harare at the time. He hastened back that afternoon to meet a large man accompanied by 12 youths in a belligerent mood. The man introduced himself as Joseph Mujati, handed Martin a letter and informed him that he was taking over the farm immediately.Martin looked at the letter and noted that that it was for the acquisition of the adjacent property known as ‘Tiny Extension’ not ‘Tiny Farm’. He pointed out this fact to Mujati who said it was irrelevant and that the letter could be changed in two minutes to read ‘Tiny farm’. He was adamant he wanted Tiny Farm and the Martin family home for 80 years. He told Martin to start packing immediately and to get off the property.
“I insisted he was acting illegally,” remembers Martin. “I phoned the police in Nyazura who arrived to tell me I would not be subjected to any violence but that I had to pack and leave in the morning.“Crack of dawn my wife Charlotte, my daughter Shelly and myself started packing. Our situation was made worse by the verbal abuse we were subjected to while trying to pack in the presence of two policemen.This carried on all the time but they could not wait for us to leave and the looting of the house started while we were still there. Not even my golf clubs were spared. 100m away my eldest daughter Shayne was also being harassed and verbally abused while trying to pack up her home. One policeman mentioned that he could not believe his eyes. He was standing witness to a crime and forbidden to do anything.
“We left that afternoon at 4:30pm with three vehicles and our furniture thanks to friends and neighbours who sent transport to assist us without us having to ask. We will be forever grateful. They were fantastic. I reminded myself that we were lucky we had not been beaten or murdered like so many others. My crops, livestock, tractors and workshop equipment was all left behind. In a few hours we had lost everything. Three generations had worked hard to build what was taken in a day.
“On the night of 12 December 2003, one of my workers who had been with me for 12 years was called by Mujati and accused of being a ‘sell out’. He was beaten, tied up in a net and dumped into the swimming pool. He was lucky to survive. Another one of my workers who was looking after my cattle was subjected to threats and had to flee. He later returned to carry on with his work.
“The next day, a Saturday I went to the farm with the police but was not allowed into the yard and not allowed to speak to any of my workers. I was very worried about them and anxious to find out if they were alright but forbidden to do so. Mujati told me that he was now also the owner of my crops, and said he would pay for all of them as well as my equipment (to this day 4 years on I have not received a cent and have lost millions of Rands). I had paprika, maize and tobacco almost ready to be reaped. He told me my workers were to stop working and that I should pay them their gratuities as he would then take them over, and that our domestic staff were to leave the farm.
“I was told by Mujati in the presence of a police Superintendent that none of my tractors and equipment would be used by him or moved off the farm. Soon after I left the tractors were sent out to work.
“After having meetings with the Governor of Manicaland I was told I could finish my crops, but was never allowed to do so. Then I had a call from Mujati telling me to get my cattle off the farm but I refused as I had no where to put them. He then ordered the cattle to be left in the pens with no water or food. A few days later I managed to get Mrs Harrison of the SPCA to visit the farm to try to save the cattle and she reported back that they were being looked after by my workers in spite of Mujati’s instructions.
“On Tuesday (13th Jan) I obtained another High Court Order instructing me to return to my house and farm and remain there until all my crops had been reaped. After the case I agreed to meet Mujati at the farm on the Friday, but he did not appear.
“The next day a truckload of thugs arrived at the house I was temporarily staying at, warning me against meeting Mujati. They warned me not to go to the farm as I would be ‘dealt with’ and the house I was staying in would be burnt to the ground. The home did not belong to me. It belonged to very good friends of mine who were kind enough to let us stay there in the interim. The mob also told me that the police had nothing to do with this matter.”
‘Tienie’ and Charlotte have not been back to their farm or home and live with little more than memories in a small rented town-house in Harare.The homestead, so recently a study in rural refinement and elegance that radiated warmth and good cheer is dank and dark. The garden that once bloomed in a riot of colour, a testament to the life of ‘Tienie’s mother ‘Miemps’ and then Charlotte who tended it with passion and care, is now a mass of miserable weeds. The farm that pulsed with productive endeavour is derelict, and the buildings are broken. ‘Tiny Farm’ is sliding swiftly back into the state it was in when ‘Tienie’s forebears arrived over eighty years ago.
But there is a sad twist in the tail of this sad saga. ‘Tiny Farm’ home of Joseph Mujati, looks set to do what Marthinus Martin failed to do; produce a rugby Springbok. Brian Mujati is an odds-on favourite to play against Wales next month. ‘Tienie’ wishes Brian all the best in his rugby future.
Tale about a Tale
(Editor, The Zimbabwean)
The story I wrote about Tiny Farm and Tienie Martin has attracted a spectrum of attention with some quarters denouncing the report as a mean-spirited attempt to spoil a new Springbok’s moment of glory.
I need to explain. Two weeks ago when the Stormers were in the throes of their final Super 1V game I received a call from my friend Roy Bennett who was in good cheer and pleased to tell me that ‘my team’ were not going to make it to the semi-finals. We laughed. Then he told me that Brian Mujati was “the son of the bloke who took your mate Tienie Martin’s farm.” Somewhat taken aback I questioned Roy a bit more closely but he was adamant. I phoned Tienie the next day and he confirmed it.
Now I need to explain a little more. When I was a boy, I, like many of my generation hero-worshipped Tienie Martin. Rugby was such a big part of all our lives and he was something like the George Clooney of rugby. Brilliant and brave on the field he was both a gentleman and a self-effacing joker off it. And then he was cursed. By nobody other than me. Because our families were close I, a squirt 10 years younger, struggling with asthma, had access to him and refused to let go. I shadowed him on the farm, the rugby-field and the beaches and bars of Beira and only remember warmth and kindness when I should have got a slap and been told to get lost.
‘Tiny Farm’ was part of the Odzi/Inyazura farming area and here democracy did not grab much attention. Martiens Martin was the quiet power in the land. A big handsome man with a ready smile, gravitas came naturally to him and without asking he simply became the patriarch commanding respect and reverence across the racial divide. What I remember of ‘Miemps’, Tienie’s mother, was the welcoming smile before the long walk through the garden with my mother. Much of the floral-engendered excitement of the time was lost on me but now I wish I had appreciated it more when I had the chance. The farm pumped with productivity, everyone worked hard and on the weekends they played. It was a happy place. This was a microcosm of the country.
But no more. Joseph Mujati, in flagrant violation of a High Court order, has pillaged Tiny Farm and like his colleagues in ZANU PF who have engaged in the same exercise he has had his woeful way; sold the stolen equipment and left the land to die. Like his partners in crime he believes he is above the law and sadly he is right. A collaborator in a monstrous kleptocracy he can brutalise, steal and destroy with impunity. He and his ilk have destroyed commercial agriculture in Zimbabwe and in the same stroke the entire economy which has reduced millions of people to a life of deprived misery amidst a reign of terror.
It is at this juncture Brian Mujati stands poised to don the Green and Gold and some are of the opinion that this unfolding tragedy should not be allowed to blight his moment of glory. I empathise with Brian and wish him well but I feel his plight is rendered inconsequential compared to that of his countrymen who suffer as a result of the unbridled greed and unspeakable venality of his father.
‘Tienie’ Martin was ambivalent about letting this story out. “I don’t want to mess the youngster’s (Brian’s) career up,” he said. “What happened to me,” he explained, “was not the son’s fault.” Then he went on to make a telling point: “But hell his dad didn’t give my children too much thought when he threw them out of their houses.” I listened and encouraged him to do it because I thought it was a story that needed to be told in the interests of a bigger cause and only when convinced that this might help others did he agree. Today he was phoned and threatened twice by Joseph Mujati and has taken his wife and daughters into hiding. The Odzi Sports Club not far from Tiny Farm which once provided the hub of the community’s social activities is now a torture-centre run by a ZANU PF militia.
Traditionally Springbok rugby players are hard men who give no quarter on the field of sporting battle but off they are gentlemen and this is what has given the game and the people who play it a special place in sport. Before he runs on the field tomorrow maybe Brian can start acting like a Springbok and ask his father to leave Tienie, Charlotte and the girls in peace.
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